


Fanning The Flames

by Blackforestfire



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Poor bookshop management, Post-Apocalypse, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 11:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20208991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackforestfire/pseuds/Blackforestfire
Summary: The world didn't end, Hell and Heaven have agreed to leave them alone, and still Crowley clings to the desperate hope that nothing between him and Aziraphale has changed despite it all.So here he is, standing outside of Aziraphale's bookshop, hoping to a God who never listens that maybe things can be the same.





	Fanning The Flames

Crowley rocked onto the balls of his feet and then let gravity sway him back to his heels. He did this a few more times, eyeing the front of a handsome bookshop and the firm ‘CLOSED’ sign posted out front.

“This is stupid,” he hissed to himself, still rocking.

“Absolutely no point,” he added, rising up on his toes.

“You should just go home,” he said, finally settling on his feet.

Yet Crowley still found himself walking towards the bookshop, hands balled into fists deep in his pockets. He didn’t allow himself to remember the last time he’d been here, how his hands had burned as he’d clawed through fiery wreckage looking for—

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called, rapping on the door. He didn’t bother wait for an answer, and let himself in through a door which had, only seconds ago, been firmly locked.

“Oh, Crowley! I was hoping you’d come by,” came a voice from near the back of the shop. “Could you come lend a hand?”

Crowley let himself move through the shop, eyeing stacks of books balanced on tables, chairs, and each other. He found Aziraphale in the back, near a book case already overflowing.

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley a smile that made the demon squirm. “Could you manage to find a spot for this fellow?”

‘This fellow’ turned out to be a book that would not, under any mortal circumstance, fit in the already stuffed shelf Aziraphale was gesturing at.

Crowley took it from Aziraphale, twitching a bit when the angel’s index finger brushed his, and examined it. He then looked at the space it was meant to go.

“Ssssssso,” he drawled, low and quiet. “You’re causing problems?”

The book remained silent.

“You think you’re too good for the sssssshelf?”

Crowley picked his shades off his nose and regarded the book with cold, flat eyes.

“Becausssssse I have a lovely fireplace that alwayssss needs kindling,” he purred, dragging his words out. “I could always make…arrangements.”

The book suddenly seemed to be sucking itself in a bit.

“I could alwayssssss lend you to a local pre-school.”

Here, Aziraphale flinched.

“There would be…glitter glue.”

Crowley hummed with satisfaction as he slid the book into the shelf with ease, then replaced his shades and looked at the angel.

“Was that all you needed?”

“Yes, well no, I mean yes but also don’t leave just yet,” Aziraphale said imploringly, hands fluttering with concern around the book that seemed to have lost 200 pages of weight.

“I won’t,” Crowley mumbled. “Quit fretting over it, it’ll get ideas.”

He strode off after a couple minutes, and Aziraphale followed Crowley into the room tucked into the back of his shop. It contained two welcoming armchairs, a worn and comfortable sofa, and a thick knit blanket draped over the back of said sofa that Crowley knew, from experience, was quite lovely to sleep under.

Aziraphale took his usual spot on the sofa, but then patted the space next to him imploringly.

Crowley sat.

Aziraphale looked at him like he expected Crowley to say something, as if all of this had been his idea in the first place. But when Crowley continued the silent staring contest for a couple minutes too long, Aziraphale shifted his weight and made a delicate little coughing noise.

“So, I expect things have changed, yes?” he said conversationally.

“Things?”

“Our role here, I mean. Our relationship with our respective head offices. Our relationship with…erm…each other.”

Here, Crowley straightened up. “Relationship?”

Aziraphale gave him a slightly put out look. “Well, yes. We don’t have to hide our meetings anymore, do we? No more clandestine bus trips, no more sneaking about.”

“…no more St. James’ Park?” Crowley said, with a sinking feeling.

“No. Well, I think the ducks may riot if we don’t feed them every so often. They’ve gotten rather attached,” Aziraphale said, looking a bit distressed at the thought.

“So no more meetings.”

As if some alert had gone off in the angel’s head, Aziraphale quickly looked at Crowley and scooted closer. “Oh no, dear, don’t take that tone. I meant no more _secret_ meetings. The cat’s out of the proverbial bag, I should think.”

“Oh,” Crowley said eloquently, feeling significantly better.

“Mm, yes,” Aziraphale said, continuing to stare at him.

“So…we can still meet up?”

“That is what we’re doing now, dear.”

“And nothing has to change?” Crowley said, in a tone that one might consider hopeful if hope wasn’t another one of those four letter words that made the demon prone to hissing and sulking.

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth for a second, something flickering in his impossibly blue eyes, before he straightened and smiled.

“No, of course not.”

Crowley slumped back into the sofa, his previous anxieties gone. He’d assumed that after everything, after nearly getting the two of them killed and the rest of the world to boot, his angel would want some time away from him. But here they were, sitting in his ridiculous bookshop like nothing happened. It filled Crowley with the same feeling he got in a particularly lovely patch of sun, usually while wearing a different form. All warm and satisfied.

Content, maybe?

Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead fixing his gaze at his hands which had knotted themselves in his lap.

Crowley frowned a little. “Angel?”

“Mmm?”

“You look a little put out.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, and Crowley felt the warmth inside him intensify.

Almost at the same time that Crowley felt that, Aziraphale gave a little shudder and his smile wavered.

“Crowley, dear, is there something you want to tell me? Maybe about our situation?”

“Eh?”

Aziraphale had that look in his eye again, that weirdly intense gaze that always made Crowley feel like he was pinned to the spot.

He let the silence stretch, since it had worked so well last time, but he could feel his pulse hammering away as Aziraphale studied him.

Slowly, Aziraphale reached a hand out over the impossibly vast distance of a couch cushion and let it alight tentatively over Crowley’s knee.

“Darling, I can feel that.”

Crowley’s throat worked to produce sound, but the only thing he could focus on was the burning heat on his knee. Burning hot warmth, like sunshine…like…fire…

Crowley jerked away without thought, the smell of smoke in his nose as he lurched to his feet. Stumbling a little, he backed away only to collide against the wall opposite Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, his angel, who was now staring at him with such hurt that Crowley forced his dry mouth to form words.

“S-sorry, can’t, just…ngk…”

“No, no I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Aziraphale said in a rush, starting to reach out only to think better of it. “I’m sorry, Crowley, please…please come sit down.”

Crowley wanted to sink into himself and slither into a dark, damp hole for the next century. He was torn by two wildly different urges. One, the one he was most familiar with, hissed that he should bolt from the shop and fall into the deep comfort of sleep. The other, the one that sounded suspiciously like his angel, coaxed him to rejoin Aziraphale on the couch.

“It’s different now,” Aziraphale murmured to him, as though he were a skittish animal. “We won’t get in trouble for just…being. Come sit, dear, and I’ll get some wine and we can forget about that.”

And go back to the way it was. Crowley heard the unsaid sentence.

Did he want that?

His knee still felt tingly from the bare second of contact he’d had with the angel, and it made his entire body prickle.

Swallowing the voice that told him to run, he forced himself to take the few steps back to the couch, sinking back into his vacated spot with as much dignity as he could.

“There, that’s perfect,” Aziraphale said with such approval that it made the pins and needles sensation in Crowley’s skin intensify. “I’ll go fetch some wine. Stay put.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale walk into the back room where he kept his records and wine collection. He looked back down at the knee that was still traitorously tingly. He put his own hand over that spot, pressing down as if to cement the feeling into his nerves.

It had felt like burning, like fire and heat.

But it hadn’t felt like the raw, ravaging flames he’d seen here the last time he was in the shop.

“I found a lovely Riesling in the back,” Aziraphale said as he returned with a bottle and two glasses. “I know it’s not what we usually go for, but so much has changed that it only seems appropriate.”

Yes…things have changed, Crowley thought, watching Aziraphale pour them both a generous helping.

Aziraphale handed Crowley his glass, careful not to touch.

“It should be cold, you know,” Crowley said, and then flicked his fingers to chill their wine.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I suppose I could probably get away with that now.”

“Frivolous miracles?” Crowley said, echoing his angel from so long ago.

It made Aziraphale smile, and the odd fire came back in Crowley’s body. Things were different now. He wasn’t bound by the same restrictions as before. He could do something about the squirming heat in his veins.

The thought gave Crowley the fuel he needed to move his hand over the expanse of the couch cushion, retracing Aziraphale’s path, pausing before reaching his knee. When his angel didn’t move, Crowley rested his hand there with the same hesitant, delicate touch he’d been so adverse to.

The fire was there, concentrated in his palm like a tiny sun.

“Crowley?”

Crowley looked up to find Aziraphale closer than he remembered, peering into his face like he was searching for something.

“You’re warm,” was all Crowley could think to say, but it seemed to be the right thing because Aziraphale’s face softened.

“So are you, my dear.”

There was a clink of a glass being set down, and then Aziraphale’s hand was brushing alongside his jaw, fingers tracing the sharp line of his face. They trailed lines of fire in their wake, and it all began to pool deep within Crowley’s body.

Crowley’s untouched wine joined Aziraphale’s glass on the table without a thought. He reached instead for the hand on his face, catching Aziraphale’s wrist and pressing his fingertips to the soft, sensitive skin there.

“What you said earlier,” Crowley mumbled, fingers stroking his angel’s inner wrist unconsciously. “What did you mean?”

“That’s very distracting, dear,” Aziraphale admonished, thought he made no move to pull away. “And I’m not sure what you mean. When I said what?”

“That you can feel ‘that’. What is it?”

Aziraphale’s face moved through a couple different emotions then, enough for Crowley to tell he was trying to think quickly.

“Angel,” he said, squeezing his wrist. “None of that. Just tell me.”

“I…am afraid that you won’t like what I have to say.”

Crowley resumed stroking Aziraphale’s inner wrist, fascinated by the fluttering of the pulse he found there. He waited, patient for once, content to sit there and touch him.

“I can feel how you feel about me,” Aziraphale said softly. “And I just thought…since, well, everything is different. Maybe, we could be different.”

“You know,” Crowley said flatly, while internally he felt his heart stop. The pleasant sunshine feeling was gone, doused like a storm rolled in and obscured the entire sky.

“For a while,” Aziraphale admitted, and at least had the good sense to look a little ashamed. “I recognized it instantly, you know.”

“You did,” Crowley repeated numbly.

Aziraphale’s face was getting a distinctly rosy look to it, rather like the flush he got after too much wine. But he hadn’t had any wine yet, it was still sitting on the small coffee table, which meant…blushing?

His pulse was a little more erratic, and Crowley realized he hadn’t released Aziraphale’s wrist.

“Yes, uhm, well it was easy to recognize because it’s how I feel about you.”

Crowley’s mind reeled even as he sat there, unmoving. He had never dared to imagine, even in his darkest moments when he’d bothered to acknowledge he had some less-than-demonly feelings about the angel, that they’d be reciprocated. Not in all the times they’d met up, accidentally or otherwise. Not when Aziraphale first slipped up and ‘tempted’ him to lunch in Rome. Not when they made the agreement, or when they started doing little things for each other.

Not when the world ended, or failed to.

Certainly not in Aziraphale’s bookshop, completely sober, in the midafternoon while holding his wrist.

Aziraphale’s face was still pink, and seemed to be getting a bit darker with every passing second of silence.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Aziraphale finally asked.

“Like what?” Crowley said, his voice hoarse.

“Like, you want things to stay the same? Or change? Or you want to keep having our walks in the park? Or I overstepped? Something!” Aziraphale let some frustration slip, and it startled Crowley enough to snap back into his body.

Slowly, barely daring to believe his nerve, Crowley tilted Aziraphale’s captured wrist and pressed his lips to the soft skin he found there.

Aziraphale sucked in a small breath but didn’t move until Crowley raised his head again, finally releasing his arm.

“Oh, my darling,” he said, practically murmuring it. Then he reached for him, hands framing Crowley’s face as he kissed him.

The fire came flooding back, sweeping through Crowley like a bolt of electricity. He could feel the sweet press of his angel’s lips, the gentle touch of his hands, and it was already almost overwhelming. Crowley kissed him back without thought, reaching for the warmth of Aziraphale on blind instinct alone.

Aziraphale’s hands left his face and traveled down his back, pulling him closer and closer until Crowley found himself folded into his lap. Long legs tucked alongside Aziraphale’s thighs, arms wrapped around his neck, Crowley kissed his angel again and again until he felt surrounded by flame.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, when Crowley finally let up for a moment.

Crowley paused, reevaluating their position. “Too much?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed and his hands buried themselves in the back of Crowley’s jacket. “No. Not even close. Don’t you dare move.”

“Bossy?” Crowley teased, though his heart was hammering.

“I’m sorry if I seem so, dear boy. I just hate depriving myself of what I want,” Aziraphale said, so candidly like this was something they always discussed.

“You make it sound like I’m one of your desserts,” Crowley said, though it came out a little breathless this time.

Aziraphale eyed him, running his hands up and down his back slowly. “I suppose this is where I make a comment about eating you up, hmm?”

Crowley choked and Aziraphale smiled a little deviously, eyes lit up with mischief.

“I mean,” he continued, maintaining his air of innocence. “You did taste rather lovely, my dear.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley begged, hands balled into the shoulders of his angel’s jacket.

The playfulness vanished and Aziraphale’s hands settled on the demon’s waist. “I’m sorry, that was too much. I’ve been waiting for so long, I just got a little carried away. You’re a temptation all in yourself, Crowley.”

Crowley felt like he was going to combust. The only things he could focus on were the points of contact between them. Hands on his waist, thighs pressing against his own…it was intoxicating.

“It’s not that,” Crowley said, his voice coming out a little strangled. “But if you keep…I’m not going to be able…my control isn’t that great, angel, okay?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He bit his lip, looking a little like he’d been caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t. But his hands slowly slid down from Crowley’s thin waist to rest on the jut of his hips, squeezing.

Crowley shivered, the heat of Aziraphale’s hands making him ache.

“My dear, I never said I wanted that. If anything, I’d very much like if you lost it.”

That was too much for Crowley, and he surged forwards with a groan. His lips met Aziraphale’s and their kiss was nothing like the one they had just shared. This one wasn’t hesitant and sweet, filled with control. This one made Aziraphale moan into Crowley’s mouth, hands clutching and pulling to be closer.

Crowley pressed Aziraphale back into the couch with his body, chasing the fire from his angel’s touch. It raced up and down his back, sliding along his hips and down his thighs. It came from Aziraphale’s mouth, stealing breath he didn’t need but still felt a desperation for.

He didn’t realize he was making an effort until the dull flame in his veins finally began to concentrate between his legs, driving Crowley wild. He left Aziraphale’s mouth in favor for the soft white column of his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses along the pulse point he found there.

Aziraphale moaned, tilting his head and threading his fingers through Crowley’s hair to keep him there, tugging demandingly when Crowley stopped to admire.

Open mouth kisses were followed by the graze of teeth, earning little gasps and squirms as Crowley smoothed away the sting with his tongue.

“Oh you devious, delicious creature,” Aziraphale panted, tugging Crowley back up to kiss him.

Crowley went obediently, kissing Aziraphale and whining into his mouth when he felt his hair tugged at again.

“Like that, do you?” Aziraphale asked, enraptured as he earned a louder noise with a particularly sharp pull. “Oh you’re beautiful like that, baring your neck to me…”

A wet, warm tongue swept up the length of Crowley’s throat and he bucked, a loud moan spilling from his lips.

“Oh dearest, what can I do for you? What would you like?” Aziraphale’s voice is like honey, if honey was barbed with coy intentions. Still, it acted like an aphrodisiac to Crowley, who could feel himself squirming around on Aziraphale’s lap.

With a particular roll of his hips he finally caught some friction, grinding down and causing the two of them to make obscene noises. Crowley could feel that Aziraphale was making an effort for him too, and he canted his hips down again to coax another needy noise from his angel.

“Let me…please…?” Crowley mumbled, gesturing in a way he hoped Aziraphale could get.

Thankfully he seemed to understand the gist, and Aziraphale loosened his grip to allow Crowley to slide out of his lap and onto the floor.

Crowley looked up from his new spot between Aziraphale’s thighs, hands fluttering around his angel’s knees, waiting for permission. He didn’t know why exactly he needed it, he knew Aziraphale wanted what he was offering, but still he didn’t dare move until his angel nodded in confirmation.

Trousers and pants were discarded, along with Aziraphale’s shoes and socks, and then the rest of the angel’s clothes because Crowley couldn’t stand them any longer.

Finally, Aziraphale was bare before him, and Crowley felt punch drunk at the sight. He reminded Crowley of those paintings he’d seen briefly back when lamps were lit by oil and the streets were filthy. Back when beauty was seen in curves and flesh.

Crowley’s hands ran slowly up Aziraphale’s thighs, pushing them open as he traveled higher. His mouth followed his hands, kissing along the sensitive skin of Aziraphale’s inner thighs and marveling at every hitched breath, every twitch.

“_Crowley_,” Aziraphale moaned, watching him with such adoration it made the demon squirm.

His fingers skirted their prize, instead resting on the curve of Aziraphale’s hips. Crowley’s mouth made no such detour, and he didn’t bother to hide his eagerness as he swiped his tongue along the thick shaft.

The noise that tumbled out of Aziraphale’s kiss swollen lips urged Crowley on. He flicked his tongue over the pink head, then opened his mouth and allowed him inside.

The feeling of his angel’s cock resting on his tongue made Crowley dizzy, and he was quick to establish a rhythm. It stretched his jaw beautifully, adding a contrasting pain to the building ache between his legs. He licked and sucked at Aziraphale, unable to stop wanton little noises from escaping. He felt obscene and deliciously used, and it sent his mind into a foggy bliss.

Crowley felt fingers tangle in his hair and he groaned around Aziraphale’s cock. His fingers pressed into Aziraphale’s hips, no doubt leaving bruises, as he fell deeper into the burning haze of pleasure.

All too soon Crowley felt a sharp tug on his scalp, and he whined pitifully as Aziraphale pulled him away.

“Darling, oh dearest, come here, you’re doing so well,” Aziraphale said softly, guiding Crowley back up onto the couch. He didn’t bother undressing the demon, preferring instead a brief wave of his hand to miracle the clothing away.

Crowley hissed as cool air hit his overheated skin, pressure finally off his cock. It allowed him some clarity, and he sought out his angel instantly.

Aziraphale welcomed him back into his lap, holding him close and kissing him deeply. Hands ran down to Crowley’s ass, squeezing possessively and earning a high pitched noise from the demon.

“Tell me what you want.”

It wasn’t a question, and it pushed Crowley deeper into the heat burning him from the inside out.

“I want you,” Crowley said quickly. “I want you to claim me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes darkened, though the tenderness in his touch never faltered. He easily maneuvered them, tipping Crowley off his lap and onto the couch cushions. He quickly followed, kissing Crowley’s neck and chest as one his hands slipped between the demon’s open legs.

Crowley felt the slick touch at his entrance and he clutched at his angel, rocking down impatiently. He felt Aziraphale’s mouth move to the crook of his neck, nipping at him as he circled and pressed his finger teasingly.

“Angel, bless it all, please!” Crowley gasped, and then moaned in relief as he finally felt Aziraphale push his fingers inside. Two, by the delicious burn of it, and Crowley forgot to be demanding. He moaned with each little twist and thrust, arching up into Aziraphale’s body and then moaning as his angel kissed him over and over.

Another finger, and Crowley’s moans took on a desperate tone.

“Crowley, oh that’s it, you sound so good,” Aziraphale said between each kiss. “Tilt your hips for me now, love, that’s it, oh you’re doing so well…”

The fingers left and Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hands on his legs, spreading him open. He didn’t even realize his eyes were closed until they flew open at the feeling of his angel finally pushing inside.

Aziraphale’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide as he slid into Crowley, hands petting and stroking every bit of the demon he could reach. He was murmuring encouragements and praise, all of which sent Crowley plunging farther into the consuming heat within him.

Then his angel moved, and Crowley was gone. He was aware of Aziraphale over him, knew he was clutching at him, but all he could process was the blinding pleasure between them. It burned and ached and sent him crying out with each thrust, begging his angel for more.

And Aziraphale obliged, pushing Crowley’s legs up and moving harder and deeper, driving Crowley into the couch.

They both filled the air between them with cries and moans, holding onto each other as they barreled towards the center of the blaze.

Crowley could feel it about to break and he once again let his head tilt back, opening his throat to Aziraphale like an offering.

His angel accepted it in the form of a kiss pressed against his pulse, and then Crowley was gone. A flaming hot inferno crashed through him, ripping through his body and making him shout for his angel. He shook in Aziraphale’s arms as his angel continued to move in him, dragging him through it.

Then Aziraphale buried his head in Crowley’s shoulder and came with a broken moan of his name, gasping and panting as he joined Crowley in the blaze.

They lay there like that for a while, shivering and trying to remember how to breathe. The flood of heat left them both feeling renewed and warm down to their cores.

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s hair, unwilling to give up the closeness just yet. He felt his angel shift and then winced as he withdrew, already missing the ache of being filled.

Aziraphale pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at Crowley, eyes bright with something akin to worship.

It sent Crowley’s skin prickling again, but this time he identified the feeling with the positive warmth in his chest and the delicious soreness between his legs. He reached up and tugged his angel down, kissing him tenderly.

“Could we add this to our list of things that have changed?” Aziraphale asked, his voice warm with affection once Crowley allowed him back up some time later.

“We would be different,” Crowley said, eyes crinkling a little in their corners.

“Different isn’t always bad,” Aziraphale countered, leaning down to kiss Crowley again.

“Mmm, suppose not,” Crowley admitted, shifting a little to let Aziraphale settle down on the couch next to him.

Crowley thought privately that if different meant more of this, more of the fire that left him feeling raw and seen and cared for, then he was ready to burn for eternity as long as it was with Aziraphale.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love writing these two dummies, they're just so much fun! 
> 
> I hope ya'll like it, and please feel free to leave a comment! They always make my day :)


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